


it's second nature to love you, first to die

by lapoesieestdanslarue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Not A Fix-It, i'm so emotional still over this guys, obvious MAJOR SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapoesieestdanslarue/pseuds/lapoesieestdanslarue
Summary: (a retelling of That final scene from infinity war)“Steve--”Bucky holds, stumbles, gasps.His new arm glistens in the light, the gold plates reflecting the 3 o’clock honey sun, the vibranium clashing cold against it.“Bucky?”





	it's second nature to love you, first to die

**Author's Note:**

> i just saw infinity war and i'm a mess so i just ?? made it worse ?? because that's how i deal with my feelings apparently ??
> 
> Title from Rainbow Kitten Surprise's 'Cold Love'

_If I die in your arms, bury me while playing this_

_Bury me saying "You were all I ever needed"_

_And hold me like we're dying from the liquor that we drank down in hotel rooms_

_To feel warm in cold love_

 

* * *

 

 

“Steve--”

Bucky holds, stumbles, gasps.

His new arm glistens in the light, the gold plates reflecting the 3 o’clock honey sun, the vibranium clashing cold against it.

“Bucky? _”_

He doesn’t understand, at first, which is the funny thing. Doesn’t notice how their past and present are beginning to rhyme, history and myth start to mingle and fuse together. For a few blissful seconds, it’s just Steve and Bucky, looking across at each other on a battlefield. Steve waits for the “punk” or “on your left” that never comes, searching for a smile that doesn’t appear, and then he sees.

It’s like a veil has been lifted from his eyes when he actually realises what’s happening. The colour is draining fast from Bucky’s face, his gorgeous, gorgeous face that’s finally beginning to fill out and becoming more and more familiar as the days go by. The man that looks at him now is worlds away from the one Steve had met at the clearing seconds before. Gone is the tan, the flush of health and blood beneath his cheeks. It’s like someone has washed Bucky over in white paint, carved out hollows beneath his eyes and cast him over in a pallor of death.

“Bucky.” His name is bitter on Steve’s tongue. Suddenly, it’s almost seventy years ago and Steve is watching as Bucky falls from a train. At that thought, his muscles finally kick into gear.

Steve runs towards him, determined not to let him slip from his grasp this time, certain to make sure that this time he catches Bucky before he falls.

Whatever it is, they can fix it. That’s what they came to Wakanda for in the first place. They made Bucky better, they gave him back his memories, they healed him. Whatever bite or wound Bucky has now, it will be fixed. By the grace of any faith left in him, Steve is not letting go of Bucky this time.

Steve catches him by the waist, moving his hands up and twining them around his abdomen so he can support his weight better. Bucky’s head falls into the cleft between Steve’s neck and shoulders, his lips grazing the flesh over arteries.

Steve staggers, falls to his knees but takes Bucky with him. Carefully, gently, one arm spanning back, the other tight around his hips.

“You’re okay, Buck,” he whispers into sweat-matted hair. “Whatever it is, they can fix you. Shuri’s going to fix you. Where do you hurt? Where’s the bleeding? Bucky, tell me where it hurts.”

Bucky grips his hand, shakes his head, and Steve feels the ground fall out beneath him.

“No,” he breathes. “No. Bucky, tell me where it hurts. Tell me there’s something wrong, baby, please.”

“I can’t,” Bucky answers finally, and Steve’s heart breaks at the sound of it. Half-sobbed, half-choked, filled with finality and remorse. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“No,” Steve says again. “No. Sweetheart, you’re fine. Look at me-- you’re fine, okay?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he bites out, breathes heaving against the slowing of his internal organs. “Not this time. Not this time--”

“You’re staying right here, Buck, I promise. I’m not letting you go this time. I’ve got you, see?” His grips tightens around Bucky’s body, hard enough to feel the fluttering of blood beneath his fingertips. “I caught you this time.”

“We were supposed to grow old together this time.” A single tear falls from the corner of Bucky’s eye, and Steve wipes it away. His chest stutters, retches between the cocoon of Steve’s arms.

“Bucky, it’s okay,” Steve murmurs, clutching him tight. He’s trying to keep his voice steady but the tears are coming faster than he knows how to deal with and his throat is closing with the panicked anticipation of fresh loss.

“I love you,” Bucky breathes on the inhale. His eyes are watery and far away, but he smiles, even still. “I’m sorry it was never enough.”

Bucky slips from his arms, evaporating like dust, disappearing into tiny particles, flying away, away, away. Steve stays put, not realising he’s moving until his forehead is touching the ground. He breaks, bending under the weight of his loss. He screws his eyes tight against the barrage of tears, curls his hands tight into the empty space beneath him, the space where Bucky should be-- but where Bucky _isn’t._

The scream he lets out must be almighty. He can feel it tremour through the grass, as tears slip from his eyes onto the soil beneath, a fertile source of guilt and pain.

There are hands at his shoulders, rubbing his back, soothing words in his ears.

_Steve, it’s okay. Captain, we will find a way to right this. Captain, let Shuri look at your wounds. Steve, I’m sorry._

He doesn’t want their words, he wants _Bucky._ He wants his boy who was here only seconds before, who went through hell and back twice and still returned home, home to Steve.

“Take me with you,” he mutters into the dirt under his lips, fingers digging until he feels roots. “Don’t leave me again, Buck. Take me with you.”

“ _Steve.”_ Natasha by his side, combing her fingers through his hair, lifting his head up to the gaudy light of day.

“Tell me he’s not gone,” he says, brokenly. His eyes sting from the tears, his head feels full of them. And on his chest, there’s the weight of what’s left of him and Bucky, of the crushing, heavy love they’d made for themselves. “Tell me I didn’t lose him again.”

Natasha pulls him in, his head against hers, her lips brushing his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Oh God,” he mumbles. The sobs claw their way through his chest, ripping up his throat and leaving him a weeping mess amongst the ruined ruins of what was Wakanda.

All Steve knows of heaven, and all he knows of hell is laid out before him; teeming with corpses and rubble, a shield in his hand, and an empty space where Bucky should be.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment and we can deal with this emotional trauma together :'(


End file.
